It was a major wake up call…
Things that you thought would never happen to you or your family, and then it did.
I must have been deep in my slumber, too tired for my own good, only to realize how late I was.
But I believe, that if anyone is sincere in seeking the truth, he will find the truth, whether in the Quran or the Bible or the Torah. May his heart is sincere in seeking the truth, and that he finds it, and leads all of us to the truth.
I read the first chapter of the holy Al-Quran with its English translation, and Al-Fatihah has never meant so beautiful and so inspiring to me until now. It feeds my almost empty soul. By reciting the Al-Fatihah with much understanding, I now know what is that I’m asking for from my one and only Lord.
***
There were many times that I felt the unfairness of life, and especially when it impacts my personal life. There were many moments that I felt I could have it better, or even questioned why others have it easier or better than me? But I forget, there are many others who have it much worst than me. I forget the blessings that He has bestowed on me. Whether it took only a second for him to answer my prayer, or nine years, He had and will answer my prayers, but if only I did not forget to prostrate five times a day to him. I have been so forgetful, buried in my own ignorant, so how can I deserve the blessings that I am seeking from Him. But I know He has given me so much more than I could ask for, and I keep asking and asking from Him.
***
Beautiful Ramadan is calling, beautiful Ramadan is coming, and I can’t wait…I can’t wait for syaitan to be chained, and I can’t wait to perform my terawih which I had done for the first time only in the last Ramadan. It was soul-filling. I seek that He gives me strength and energy to do it again. May Ramadan brings more blessings to all of us, and may He fulfilled all our prayers especially the prayers of our mothers and mothers alike...Ameen.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
It's not quantum theory, but just simple physics...
I was honoured to be sitting at the lunch table with a group of people who were experts in the field of Physics, and rightly so, some of them could be called Physicists. They talked about quantum physics, photo-electrics and some unheard of terms. They are normal people, like you and me, with children and family to think about. However, at the same time, they are rather simple - they believe in taking the public transport out for our lunch buffet at Sakura than ride a car, as some of them believes it saves the environment and the pockets. If their cause is about saving gaia, then I would relent but I am sure these are people who certainly have fatter pockets than me, and could afford a car, however they choose not to.
If truth be told, I actually studied Physics in junior college, which was definitely a disaster subject for me. In secondary school, I was studying pure Chemistry and a combination of Physics and Biology. At the end of 'O' levels, I just had it with Chemistry, and thought of switching to something more palatable. I don't know what I was thinking, and the college did not quite offer much choices, so I ended up taking Physics, Economics, Mathematics C and Art. Yes, Art as in drawing and painting. It was a weird combination, of which I'm the only one out of two students taking that combination. As such, I was label as a rebel.
At that time, the arts were frowned upon, as if being in the arts stream means you are doom for life. Though I was in the science stream, I had a very hard time trying to convince my teachers what I was doing was well- for my own passion and good. The teachers did not believe in me, and I had close friends from secondary school who drifted apart because they stuck to the subjects they knew best, and they were all in the same class except me, the rebel. I had a friendship crisis too.
My Physics tutor did not help as I couldn't quite understand him. Maybe he was knowledgeable in the content area but he certainly cannot teach. He was a Chinese educated Physics teacher and that made it harder for me to understand his articulation. I was lost and clueless, and when a junior English educated Physics teacher came to take over the class, he in fact took over the experiments I had to do, and did it for me. In the end, I did not learn to wire up the experiments to light up the bulb, because junior Physics teacher just did it for me, instead of teaching me.
I was told by my class tutor, who was also my maths teacher and the college's discipline master to drop Art when I was in second year. He told me I could not live with the Arts. Art as a subject will not feed me. He told me not to drop the sciences or the maths, as that will guarantee a future. I was half-baffled by such ideas.
My Physics tutor was disheartened with my Physics results but was not sure whether I should drop Physics. I was doing badly, but he still feels that perhaps there is still hope (in me) as Physics (the sciences and maths) will have a better future than Art. Though he was not as fierceful and forceful as my class tutor, he suggested it be best I dropped Art.
My Economics tutor had it with students who took four subjects instead of three. Basically she just did not believe that her students can manage four subjects, so I was asked to drop one subject, any one, economics included. She refused to sign my form that stated I will be taking all the four subjects, as she insisted I should drop one. I left the classroom and cried buckets at the sports hall.How could she make life difficult for me when I already had it so difficult?
My Art teacher insisted that I shouldn't drop Art, and disagreed with my Maths and Physics tutor for thinking that there is no future with Art. She was so furious that she threatened me in fact to stick to Art and dropped my worst subject (which happens to be Physics then) or economics (since the economics teacher did not mind). Again, I cried buckets. I just did not know what to do.
After calming myself down and talking to a friend, I decided to tell all my teachers that I'm sticking to all four subjects, and not dropping anyone of them and at the same time, promised that I will prove them wrong. I will show them that I can do it though deep in my heart, I knew I would be dead for making such a promise.
When my 'A' level results came, the subject that pulled me up was none other than Art. I didn't do well for Physics but I somehow I already knew how difficult it was since I couldn't comprehend it at all. However, I am proud to prove to my maths and economics teachers, who didn't quite believe in me that Art help me, Art gave me a future. I gained acceptance to the university partly because of it when most of my classmates who only had three subjects and didn't do well for one, couldn't.
I was thrilled, I was elated, and I had my Art teacher to thank for. I will always remember her to this day for simply believing in me.
So teachers, since teachers day is just around the corner, do have some faith in your students. Because sometimes they are already having a hard time coping in school, and they don't need that extra bad advice, or the feeling that they are a failure. Don't make them feel like a failure even if they are doing badly. They need encouragement, and sound advice. Really sound advice. Because not everyone is good in the maths and sciences, and that I can guarantee, there is also a future in Art and the Arts.
I'm sure this is simple physics to understand. :)
If truth be told, I actually studied Physics in junior college, which was definitely a disaster subject for me. In secondary school, I was studying pure Chemistry and a combination of Physics and Biology. At the end of 'O' levels, I just had it with Chemistry, and thought of switching to something more palatable. I don't know what I was thinking, and the college did not quite offer much choices, so I ended up taking Physics, Economics, Mathematics C and Art. Yes, Art as in drawing and painting. It was a weird combination, of which I'm the only one out of two students taking that combination. As such, I was label as a rebel.
At that time, the arts were frowned upon, as if being in the arts stream means you are doom for life. Though I was in the science stream, I had a very hard time trying to convince my teachers what I was doing was well- for my own passion and good. The teachers did not believe in me, and I had close friends from secondary school who drifted apart because they stuck to the subjects they knew best, and they were all in the same class except me, the rebel. I had a friendship crisis too.
My Physics tutor did not help as I couldn't quite understand him. Maybe he was knowledgeable in the content area but he certainly cannot teach. He was a Chinese educated Physics teacher and that made it harder for me to understand his articulation. I was lost and clueless, and when a junior English educated Physics teacher came to take over the class, he in fact took over the experiments I had to do, and did it for me. In the end, I did not learn to wire up the experiments to light up the bulb, because junior Physics teacher just did it for me, instead of teaching me.
I was told by my class tutor, who was also my maths teacher and the college's discipline master to drop Art when I was in second year. He told me I could not live with the Arts. Art as a subject will not feed me. He told me not to drop the sciences or the maths, as that will guarantee a future. I was half-baffled by such ideas.
My Physics tutor was disheartened with my Physics results but was not sure whether I should drop Physics. I was doing badly, but he still feels that perhaps there is still hope (in me) as Physics (the sciences and maths) will have a better future than Art. Though he was not as fierceful and forceful as my class tutor, he suggested it be best I dropped Art.
My Economics tutor had it with students who took four subjects instead of three. Basically she just did not believe that her students can manage four subjects, so I was asked to drop one subject, any one, economics included. She refused to sign my form that stated I will be taking all the four subjects, as she insisted I should drop one. I left the classroom and cried buckets at the sports hall.How could she make life difficult for me when I already had it so difficult?
My Art teacher insisted that I shouldn't drop Art, and disagreed with my Maths and Physics tutor for thinking that there is no future with Art. She was so furious that she threatened me in fact to stick to Art and dropped my worst subject (which happens to be Physics then) or economics (since the economics teacher did not mind). Again, I cried buckets. I just did not know what to do.
After calming myself down and talking to a friend, I decided to tell all my teachers that I'm sticking to all four subjects, and not dropping anyone of them and at the same time, promised that I will prove them wrong. I will show them that I can do it though deep in my heart, I knew I would be dead for making such a promise.
When my 'A' level results came, the subject that pulled me up was none other than Art. I didn't do well for Physics but I somehow I already knew how difficult it was since I couldn't comprehend it at all. However, I am proud to prove to my maths and economics teachers, who didn't quite believe in me that Art help me, Art gave me a future. I gained acceptance to the university partly because of it when most of my classmates who only had three subjects and didn't do well for one, couldn't.
I was thrilled, I was elated, and I had my Art teacher to thank for. I will always remember her to this day for simply believing in me.
So teachers, since teachers day is just around the corner, do have some faith in your students. Because sometimes they are already having a hard time coping in school, and they don't need that extra bad advice, or the feeling that they are a failure. Don't make them feel like a failure even if they are doing badly. They need encouragement, and sound advice. Really sound advice. Because not everyone is good in the maths and sciences, and that I can guarantee, there is also a future in Art and the Arts.
I'm sure this is simple physics to understand. :)
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Am still trying...
With all the goodies given to encourage marriage and children, I am wondering whether someone like me can be given help as well - government or divine help.
I'm happily married, I have a son. But I would really like to have more kids, but as I have always told well-intentioned relatives who kept asking when is the next one, I would just say my queue number is still not up yet. Or rather Allah has not decided to give me this extra rezeki for only He knows. For a more tongue-in-cheek replies, I would respond in the likes of my brother-in-law, 'the sperm swims backwards'. Yes, my sis and her hubby have not pro-create too for their own reasons that I know not of.
I was preggie with Afzal only one month after marriage, and now I wondered why it has taken that long to conceive a second one. Afzal is already 8 years old this year, and though we have tried since he was two years old (whether very hard or otherwise), it has not borne fruits. I've seen my gynae, and have gone for traditional uruts, and pop some herbal pills, and up to date, still no buns in the oven. We don't think we will ever consider IVF. We have conceived naturally before.
And the clock is ticking. I'm already past 35 - the age that I thought I should stop pro-creating. Am 36 this year, with hubby claiming 40 and the clock is still ticking.
We've talked about this. If we are still not having any, hubby seems contented to have just one. He does not want to reach retirement age and find that his kids are just entering preschool. However, I am still hopeful, and though cost of raising kids are high, I'm sure with His grace and blessings, everything will fall in place.
I'm still hopeful until perhaps before I reach 40...?
I'm happily married, I have a son. But I would really like to have more kids, but as I have always told well-intentioned relatives who kept asking when is the next one, I would just say my queue number is still not up yet. Or rather Allah has not decided to give me this extra rezeki for only He knows. For a more tongue-in-cheek replies, I would respond in the likes of my brother-in-law, 'the sperm swims backwards'. Yes, my sis and her hubby have not pro-create too for their own reasons that I know not of.
I was preggie with Afzal only one month after marriage, and now I wondered why it has taken that long to conceive a second one. Afzal is already 8 years old this year, and though we have tried since he was two years old (whether very hard or otherwise), it has not borne fruits. I've seen my gynae, and have gone for traditional uruts, and pop some herbal pills, and up to date, still no buns in the oven. We don't think we will ever consider IVF. We have conceived naturally before.
And the clock is ticking. I'm already past 35 - the age that I thought I should stop pro-creating. Am 36 this year, with hubby claiming 40 and the clock is still ticking.
We've talked about this. If we are still not having any, hubby seems contented to have just one. He does not want to reach retirement age and find that his kids are just entering preschool. However, I am still hopeful, and though cost of raising kids are high, I'm sure with His grace and blessings, everything will fall in place.
I'm still hopeful until perhaps before I reach 40...?
Ayat-Ayat Cinta
Hubby and I watched the DVD last weekend, and lo and behold, hubby tearied during the hospital scene whereby Fahri was holding Maria's hand. [Was thinking to myself, sedih bangetke?, as usually hubby is not turn on by soappy stuff] However, I have to admit Fahri's acting (the cries), was really heartwrenching!"It was a realistic and a good movie." Hubby said at the end of it.
I did tear myself but because I was feeling more for Aishah, the self-sacrificing wife.
At night, during our pillowtalk, I told dear hubby, "When a woman gives consent to the husband to take a second wife, it is because she wants to make him happy and make the family happy, but that does not mean, she will be happy."
As usual, hubby's response is hmmm.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Mosque Building Fund
I don't mind giving to the mosque building fund, but if it just simply to beautify mosques but the mosques still remain unattractive to youth and the teaching pedagogy of the islamic classes is still not attractive to some others, I don't quite agree with having even a small portion of my income to this cause. I would prefer to give to "ilmu" - something that perhaps we cannot see with the naked eye because it is not physical, but it will benefit the community and our mankind in the long run.
I have had some feedback whereby mosque kindergartens are always in short of resources - materials for the children and classrooms and lack of trained teachers. Another grapevine I hear is that, which is of course without evidence, that kids that come from mosque kindergartens are not able to read as well.
I would rather give a portion of my income to enhance the resources of the mosque kindergartens and the skills of their teachers. But not merely to enlarge, rebuild and beautify mosques!
I have had some feedback whereby mosque kindergartens are always in short of resources - materials for the children and classrooms and lack of trained teachers. Another grapevine I hear is that, which is of course without evidence, that kids that come from mosque kindergartens are not able to read as well.
I would rather give a portion of my income to enhance the resources of the mosque kindergartens and the skills of their teachers. But not merely to enlarge, rebuild and beautify mosques!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Seribu tahun
This is one local song that I so fell in love with. Really. The music, melody and lyrics give me the goosebumps, however, the mtv failed to capture the true essence of the song.
This is a beautiful song - it made me visualise a beautiful epic film to go with it. It reminds me of one movie that I used to watch featuring the late Christopher Reeve and the elegant Jane Seymour. The title of the film is
I could figure a Malay movie of this nature - transforming love into another century. It will feature that guy who played Haikal (Razif Hashim) from Gol and Gincu and perhaps the enigmatic Tiara Jacquelina in an aged make-up effects. Of course, we would have a cameo appearance of Imran Ajmain as some bloke from the past in his polished baju kurung Telok Blangah and samping kain pelekat with high songkok.I'm sure he will look regal!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Of borrowed titles...
I was seating on the red couch with hubby next to me watching tv quite absent-mindedly one evening, when suddenly, this Malay drama's trailer with English voice-over captured my attention because of its title. My jaw dropped as I turned my attention towards hubby and my eyes just opened wide.
"Yes, it is..." was his non-chalant respond, almost knowing what I might have ask eventhough I have not spoken a word.
I shook my head, heaving a longggg sigh.
"Oh well, darn, knowing them (very well), they'll definitely do it despite...(shaking head again)...whatever." If I was a juvenile, I was contemplated to make the letter "L" with my fingers on my forehead. But I merely shook my head, and just kept my peace.
So here I'm blogging, and decided not to keep my "piece."
Once, way after I had left the company, I was asked by the executive producer on my thoughts if they were to have a new season of Jeritan Sepi. Yes, I'm talking about Jeritan Sepi, the highly successful and award-winning social drama shown on MediaCorp TV12 Suria, which premiered in 2001. The first season of Jeritan Sepi won the ‘Most Popular Programme’ Award in Suria’s Pesta Perdana 5. This Award is based on the viewership figures of all programmes shown on Suria in that year. The series also sets a record as the highest ever rated programme of 8.2% P4+ (viewers 4 years old and above) which is equivalent to 306,000 viewers, since the channel’s launch in 2000. For more info, click here.
"It's a possibility," I answered, as I thought of a third season of Jeritan Sepi but of course, the new team needs to sit down and peel all the issues and problems and see how the story can develop where it was left off after the second season. It will not be an easy task.
"But what if it's an entirely different cast and different storyline...?" asked the executive producer.
"Errrr........."
I cringed at the thought, as I know, this was not the first time that they had borrowed popular titles. And though it was not the idea of the executive producer to borrow the popular title, it looks like it's a battle that she'd rather not get into with "unchanged minds" of some people.
Borrowing a popular title does not make a popular drama - even if it's the second season of the show. Look at Felicity - the popular American teen drama flopped in its second season. This is exacerbated if the entire casts and storyline were entirely different. What's more if some of the key personnel who were instrumental to its success in the first season where not part of the new team. Even a young kid understands this equation.
Popular Title = Popular Drama (Wrong!)
Borrowed Popular Title = Drama when current cast and storyline has nothing to do with the original show! Duhhh?!
It's excruciatingly painful to see this unoriginality stemming from one of the more experience and perhaps wise production team. And the most tiring, it's their inability to comprehend a simple formula, and their overriding egoistism as if they know all, when yet in fact, they don't seem to have the slightest clue or simply refuse to accept a simple logic. And they are running a station for the consumption of the masses.
Even during the first season of Jeritan Sepi, the then people at the station was not completely convinced that Jeritan Sepi could make it on its own, so it decided to ride on a previous popular drama - Selagi Ada Kasih - the one featuring Eda Farida as the kidney patient. As a result, if viewers can recall, Jeritan Sepi's opening title was tagged as Selagi Ada Kasih - Jeritan Sepi.
Because of the unprecedented and phenomenal success of Jeritan Sepi season 1 - it overshadowed the previous success of Selagi Ada Kasih - Jeritan Sepi was given the green light to stand on its own in season two, but not without every single somebody out there from the station and even outside agencies wanting a piece of the successful pie. The second season which was aptly and simply titled Jeritan Sepi, however did not make it at the "box-office" like the first season as it became a case of "too many cooks spoil the soup".
Now this so-called third season is titled as Jeritan Sepi - Memburu Kasih. Why not just "Memburu Kasih"? Doesn't the new team have the confidence and the ability to ensure that their new story of gambling, elderly neglect and a Malay/Muslim couple living the high life of women, sex and booze can perhaps be a success if all the ingredients are right? Why borrow popular titles time and again?
It seems that lessons were not learnt from a previous mistake of borrowing the popular Rahsia Perkahwinan title. The first season of Rahsia Perkahwinan featured the award-winning veteran actor S Effendy who jollied his CPF money with a Batam girl leaving his heck-care-in-appearance wife bitter. The second season, which was a totally new cast and storyline, featured singer-turned-actor Fauzie Laily as the unconvincing new stepfather, and Rahima as the wife who refused sex with hubby. The second season did not make it. The second season did not usurp the previous success ratings of the first season of Rahsia Perkahwinan. The simple truth and logic is out there. Open thou eyes. There's no one else to blame - not publicity or the viewers - it's just a simple logic.
It's time to get over borrowing. Move on. The days of Miss Universe is over! If you know what I mean.
"Yes, it is..." was his non-chalant respond, almost knowing what I might have ask eventhough I have not spoken a word.
I shook my head, heaving a longggg sigh.
"Oh well, darn, knowing them (very well), they'll definitely do it despite...(shaking head again)...whatever." If I was a juvenile, I was contemplated to make the letter "L" with my fingers on my forehead. But I merely shook my head, and just kept my peace.
So here I'm blogging, and decided not to keep my "piece."
Once, way after I had left the company, I was asked by the executive producer on my thoughts if they were to have a new season of Jeritan Sepi. Yes, I'm talking about Jeritan Sepi, the highly successful and award-winning social drama shown on MediaCorp TV12 Suria, which premiered in 2001. The first season of Jeritan Sepi won the ‘Most Popular Programme’ Award in Suria’s Pesta Perdana 5. This Award is based on the viewership figures of all programmes shown on Suria in that year. The series also sets a record as the highest ever rated programme of 8.2% P4+ (viewers 4 years old and above) which is equivalent to 306,000 viewers, since the channel’s launch in 2000. For more info, click here.
"It's a possibility," I answered, as I thought of a third season of Jeritan Sepi but of course, the new team needs to sit down and peel all the issues and problems and see how the story can develop where it was left off after the second season. It will not be an easy task.
"But what if it's an entirely different cast and different storyline...?" asked the executive producer.
"Errrr........."
I cringed at the thought, as I know, this was not the first time that they had borrowed popular titles. And though it was not the idea of the executive producer to borrow the popular title, it looks like it's a battle that she'd rather not get into with "unchanged minds" of some people.
Borrowing a popular title does not make a popular drama - even if it's the second season of the show. Look at Felicity - the popular American teen drama flopped in its second season. This is exacerbated if the entire casts and storyline were entirely different. What's more if some of the key personnel who were instrumental to its success in the first season where not part of the new team. Even a young kid understands this equation.
Popular Title = Popular Drama (Wrong!)
Borrowed Popular Title = Drama when current cast and storyline has nothing to do with the original show! Duhhh?!
It's excruciatingly painful to see this unoriginality stemming from one of the more experience and perhaps wise production team. And the most tiring, it's their inability to comprehend a simple formula, and their overriding egoistism as if they know all, when yet in fact, they don't seem to have the slightest clue or simply refuse to accept a simple logic. And they are running a station for the consumption of the masses.
Even during the first season of Jeritan Sepi, the then people at the station was not completely convinced that Jeritan Sepi could make it on its own, so it decided to ride on a previous popular drama - Selagi Ada Kasih - the one featuring Eda Farida as the kidney patient. As a result, if viewers can recall, Jeritan Sepi's opening title was tagged as Selagi Ada Kasih - Jeritan Sepi.
Because of the unprecedented and phenomenal success of Jeritan Sepi season 1 - it overshadowed the previous success of Selagi Ada Kasih - Jeritan Sepi was given the green light to stand on its own in season two, but not without every single somebody out there from the station and even outside agencies wanting a piece of the successful pie. The second season which was aptly and simply titled Jeritan Sepi, however did not make it at the "box-office" like the first season as it became a case of "too many cooks spoil the soup".
Now this so-called third season is titled as Jeritan Sepi - Memburu Kasih. Why not just "Memburu Kasih"? Doesn't the new team have the confidence and the ability to ensure that their new story of gambling, elderly neglect and a Malay/Muslim couple living the high life of women, sex and booze can perhaps be a success if all the ingredients are right? Why borrow popular titles time and again?
It seems that lessons were not learnt from a previous mistake of borrowing the popular Rahsia Perkahwinan title. The first season of Rahsia Perkahwinan featured the award-winning veteran actor S Effendy who jollied his CPF money with a Batam girl leaving his heck-care-in-appearance wife bitter. The second season, which was a totally new cast and storyline, featured singer-turned-actor Fauzie Laily as the unconvincing new stepfather, and Rahima as the wife who refused sex with hubby. The second season did not make it. The second season did not usurp the previous success ratings of the first season of Rahsia Perkahwinan. The simple truth and logic is out there. Open thou eyes. There's no one else to blame - not publicity or the viewers - it's just a simple logic.
It's time to get over borrowing. Move on. The days of Miss Universe is over! If you know what I mean.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
The road less travelled
Robert Frost, entitled "The Road Not Taken"
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Change is a good thing...
We have moved...to a bigger, brighter and breezier place. Though pricier than before, it is still less than what the previous landlord was asking for.
Yet to find the time to enjoy the facilities as I'm still unpacking but will promise myself to do so, I have to do so!
I really need a real break...
Embrace change...for whatever it is.
Yet to find the time to enjoy the facilities as I'm still unpacking but will promise myself to do so, I have to do so!
I really need a real break...
Embrace change...for whatever it is.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Destiny detoured...
After I came home last Thursday, I did not return to The Alchemist. I have bought The Alchemist and two other paperbacks at the same time at an MPH sale at the Expo and on that Thursday evening, one of the paperbacks still tightly wrapped in its clear plastic beckoned me.
It was another of those 'destiny' book, and for that night alone, I read 48 pages of it as compared to 28 pages of The Alchemist on the first day of reading. However, you can't compare one with the other as one is a work of fiction, while the other is a non-fiction.
After ploughing 48 pages, I am glad to say that I was less perturbed about my own situation. You would understand the situation if you have read the previous blog entry. It made a difference in the way I see things. Within that hour or so, and after 48 pages, a more positive mind emerge from me.
I should have read it much earlier. What power that book has given me - if it's only to make me feel better. Thanks to Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki.
It was another of those 'destiny' book, and for that night alone, I read 48 pages of it as compared to 28 pages of The Alchemist on the first day of reading. However, you can't compare one with the other as one is a work of fiction, while the other is a non-fiction.
After ploughing 48 pages, I am glad to say that I was less perturbed about my own situation. You would understand the situation if you have read the previous blog entry. It made a difference in the way I see things. Within that hour or so, and after 48 pages, a more positive mind emerge from me.
I should have read it much earlier. What power that book has given me - if it's only to make me feel better. Thanks to Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
My destiny?
I wonder what my destiny is. Perhaps I shouldn't think too much as it's probably 'maktub' (it's written)
I'm in the middle of reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. And I'm not done yet.
***
I never expected to be living in rental houses, at least not in Singapore, my birth country.
When we were holidaying in Melbourne back in 2005, we bumped into a Malay family who were formerly from Singapore and had made Melbourne home. The husband had become an Australian citizen but the wife was still a PR. The wife told me that prior to the husband becoming a citizen, they had lived in rental homes for about 10 years. Only after the husband had changed his citizenship and withdrew his money from CPF, they bought their very own abode in Melbourne.
10 years living in rental property! That sounds quite right. But for the fact that I'm Singaporean, living in my own birth country - putting up in rental houses don't seem quite fit the profile of the typical Singaporean family. And I don't own any property either. Well, perhaps we are not so typical after all.
***
This has made me think about my destiny. I don't think I am destined to live in a rental home indefinitely. Yes, we have given ourselves deadline. But before we even get to that deadline, the landlord has decided to change our destiny again but increasing the rental ...
This has made me feel very perturbed. The high cost of rental vs the high cost of owning a home in Singapore. Everything is $$$-driven. Even the price of rice has increased 100%, but not our salary.
***
Could I be a businesswoman with a successful business? That's a destiny I'm thinking. But I'm fearful to embark on the unknown.
"...I'm going to hold on to what little I have because I'm too insignificant to conquer the world" p41
I just don't know and not ready to take any risks!
"I'm just a tiny speck of dust in this whole wide world." That's me saying.
***
Ok I'm back to my old real world...let me finish The Alchemist first.
I'm in the middle of reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. And I'm not done yet.
***
I never expected to be living in rental houses, at least not in Singapore, my birth country.
When we were holidaying in Melbourne back in 2005, we bumped into a Malay family who were formerly from Singapore and had made Melbourne home. The husband had become an Australian citizen but the wife was still a PR. The wife told me that prior to the husband becoming a citizen, they had lived in rental homes for about 10 years. Only after the husband had changed his citizenship and withdrew his money from CPF, they bought their very own abode in Melbourne.
10 years living in rental property! That sounds quite right. But for the fact that I'm Singaporean, living in my own birth country - putting up in rental houses don't seem quite fit the profile of the typical Singaporean family. And I don't own any property either. Well, perhaps we are not so typical after all.
***
This has made me think about my destiny. I don't think I am destined to live in a rental home indefinitely. Yes, we have given ourselves deadline. But before we even get to that deadline, the landlord has decided to change our destiny again but increasing the rental ...
This has made me feel very perturbed. The high cost of rental vs the high cost of owning a home in Singapore. Everything is $$$-driven. Even the price of rice has increased 100%, but not our salary.
***
Could I be a businesswoman with a successful business? That's a destiny I'm thinking. But I'm fearful to embark on the unknown.
"...I'm going to hold on to what little I have because I'm too insignificant to conquer the world" p41
I just don't know and not ready to take any risks!
"I'm just a tiny speck of dust in this whole wide world." That's me saying.
***
Ok I'm back to my old real world...let me finish The Alchemist first.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The "how" of things
It is not what we teach, but how we teach that made the greatest difference to our children.
A newfound wisdom came from a mother of two children, who told me the above. I had gone to her house to do a maths intervention programme for my master's research paper, and the methods that I used made her rethink the ways that she had been teaching mathematics to her children. It was an awakening for her. As for me, it was the stamp of approval that what I was doing was perhaps the better way of teaching mathematics to very young children.
It may not be the absolute way or the school-approved way, but the "how" is very important when we teach young children. You can get the child to add 2 + 2 using worksheets, or you can play a game of two dices and get the child to add the two numbers when the two dices are thrown. That made a whole world of difference to the child and to the mom. And it is probably one of the best ways to teach young children to love and appreciate maths, and ultimately score in maths.
The "how" of things crept up again when I was revisiting a research project that I was involved some years earlier. This time, it was a father of three children who was reminiscing about his childhood - a childhood that he would remember albeit with a bit of bitterness and grief. When he did not do well in his exams, his own father would be disappointed and told him to study harder. But he does not know how to study harder. "How" does one study harder to get better grades when one is not being shown, or demonstrated or have a role model to emulate? This made the father more adamant that he will show the "how" to do things to his own kids and not simply just telling them what to do. He said that it is akin to telling your young child to read, and yet you yourself do not read to your own child, or teach him how to read. That will be disastrous in itself.
I've seen the ad many times in the paper, about some accelerated program that promised to make a difference to your child's grades, of course with improved grades and not vice versa. I've spoken to the founder once, and somehow I decided to attend her free seminar and see for myself what exactly is this program all about. Again, what I felt she is telling to her potential clients is - it is not what we teach, but how we teach - that could make or break a child's grades and esteem. We can study so very hard and for very long hours, but if we do not have the right method or technique of learning, it may just go to waste as we will not produce the kind of results that we wanted. According to her, our human brain is only using less than 5% of the potential it can reap. She does make sense especially to parents who do not understand that it is important to show your child the better way to learn. Show, not just say. Saying the wrong words may ultimately do more damage to your child than you think.
I didn't sign up for my child because eventhough she claimed she will impart 8 different ways of learning, at least I think I may have two or three of the "hows" in my pocket for my kid. That will be enough for now. And if my "hows" are not working for my child, I'll find out more "hows" for him in the future.
A newfound wisdom came from a mother of two children, who told me the above. I had gone to her house to do a maths intervention programme for my master's research paper, and the methods that I used made her rethink the ways that she had been teaching mathematics to her children. It was an awakening for her. As for me, it was the stamp of approval that what I was doing was perhaps the better way of teaching mathematics to very young children.
It may not be the absolute way or the school-approved way, but the "how" is very important when we teach young children. You can get the child to add 2 + 2 using worksheets, or you can play a game of two dices and get the child to add the two numbers when the two dices are thrown. That made a whole world of difference to the child and to the mom. And it is probably one of the best ways to teach young children to love and appreciate maths, and ultimately score in maths.
The "how" of things crept up again when I was revisiting a research project that I was involved some years earlier. This time, it was a father of three children who was reminiscing about his childhood - a childhood that he would remember albeit with a bit of bitterness and grief. When he did not do well in his exams, his own father would be disappointed and told him to study harder. But he does not know how to study harder. "How" does one study harder to get better grades when one is not being shown, or demonstrated or have a role model to emulate? This made the father more adamant that he will show the "how" to do things to his own kids and not simply just telling them what to do. He said that it is akin to telling your young child to read, and yet you yourself do not read to your own child, or teach him how to read. That will be disastrous in itself.
I've seen the ad many times in the paper, about some accelerated program that promised to make a difference to your child's grades, of course with improved grades and not vice versa. I've spoken to the founder once, and somehow I decided to attend her free seminar and see for myself what exactly is this program all about. Again, what I felt she is telling to her potential clients is - it is not what we teach, but how we teach - that could make or break a child's grades and esteem. We can study so very hard and for very long hours, but if we do not have the right method or technique of learning, it may just go to waste as we will not produce the kind of results that we wanted. According to her, our human brain is only using less than 5% of the potential it can reap. She does make sense especially to parents who do not understand that it is important to show your child the better way to learn. Show, not just say. Saying the wrong words may ultimately do more damage to your child than you think.
I didn't sign up for my child because eventhough she claimed she will impart 8 different ways of learning, at least I think I may have two or three of the "hows" in my pocket for my kid. That will be enough for now. And if my "hows" are not working for my child, I'll find out more "hows" for him in the future.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
My embrace with the hejab
When I officially donned the hijab on 10th January 2006, at an over the prime age of 34, it brought queries to some unsuspecting Muslim friends and they had to ask, “What makes you?”
And I usually gave a tongue-in-cheek reply of “I dah bertaubat.” (I’ve repented).
Some would dig further, and my next answer will be, “I guess it’s time.”
What else should I say? By right, all Muslimah should be hijab-ed, isn’t it? It’s just that I am not doing what Muslimah should be doing, and I guess the curiosity from friends is “what is the turning point to this tudung wearing?”
Non-Muslim friends will not ask directly, but they were curious. In fact, one expressed surprise and thought that I would be more westernized since living in the US. However, another friend interjected that it may just be the opposite for some, as they may discover their religion more when they are overseas. She’s partly right, and they have came to the answer themselves without even me saying anything. They had their own discourse about the new hijab-ed me.
As a Muslim lady, I know it is my duty to be modest, and to “veil my bosom and lower my gaze,” as described in the Al-Quran, loosely translated from An-nisa’s verses. But living in cosmopolitan Singapore, I don’t see the need to, since I have such an active and adventurous lifestyle. It’s not controversial for a Muslim lady not to be wearing the tudung in Singapore, and much less so if you are in the US.
I have never asked or discussed with anyone about wearing even though the thought and the niat to wear the tudung has crept into my mind at a few times in my life though I can’t exactly recall when. I have occasionally tried out tudungs in front of the mirrors. And even at very fewer times, wear the tudung in the house. I kept telling myself, if I decide to wear, it will be for good. And it is not something for me to call it off and give it up later. I want to be a tudung-wearer not tudung-weary. But I was fearful of being hejab. One of the major reasons is, I’m ashamed of myself. Though I am not deviant, and I would think that I am morally a good person, I am not a good Muslim. I am a lazy and ignorant one. I neglected my prayers. I didn’t complete my Quran. I’m too lazy and too involved in worldly affairs to further my knowledge in Islam. If I wear the tudung, and I am still lazy and ignorant, what’s the point? I can’t be Muslim on the outside, but be so unknowledgeable and less practicing on the inside. This stopped me from covering up.
It was during one of my online chats with a friend, R that I summoned the courage to ask the same questions that a Muslimah shouldn’t for the answers are just obvious. What makes you? And what is the turning point for you? But isn’t it too sudden? R quoted in her blog, she hejabed a day after her husband’s marriage proposal eventhough the day before she was wearing an ill-fitting jeans and a see-through blouse. Whatever she told me at that time made much sense to me. “I can’t wait to be a better Muslim to be hejab-ed. Perhaps being hejab will make me a better Muslim.” Even then these words of wisdom haven’t moved me.
At that point in time, I was also adamant in teaching my son good Islamic values especially living in a foreign western land, and with little contact of Islam and good Muslims, I felt that it was even more dire on me to teach him Islam. However, I can’t be teaching my son good Islamic values without practicing them properly.
In later chats and emails, R asked, “what if your son goes to madrasah and finds the ustazah covered up, learned from the Quran about Muslim women being hejab, only to return home to find his mummy, not hejab? Wouldn’t he be confused? What do you say to him then?”
That hit me. I want my son to learn good Islamic values but I am not practising it. What do I say if my son really asked me, “Mummy, why aren’t you wearing the hejab like the Quran says?” Being a good role model, is what parenting is all about isn't it?
For the sake of Allah, and for the sake of producing a good Muslim lineage, I have embraced the hejab but my journey is only the beginning. I am still no less lazy and no less ignorant. But I am trying my very best, and I know my very best is still not good enough, to Him and to me. I have no one else to blame except myself.
And I usually gave a tongue-in-cheek reply of “I dah bertaubat.” (I’ve repented).
Some would dig further, and my next answer will be, “I guess it’s time.”
What else should I say? By right, all Muslimah should be hijab-ed, isn’t it? It’s just that I am not doing what Muslimah should be doing, and I guess the curiosity from friends is “what is the turning point to this tudung wearing?”
Non-Muslim friends will not ask directly, but they were curious. In fact, one expressed surprise and thought that I would be more westernized since living in the US. However, another friend interjected that it may just be the opposite for some, as they may discover their religion more when they are overseas. She’s partly right, and they have came to the answer themselves without even me saying anything. They had their own discourse about the new hijab-ed me.
As a Muslim lady, I know it is my duty to be modest, and to “veil my bosom and lower my gaze,” as described in the Al-Quran, loosely translated from An-nisa’s verses. But living in cosmopolitan Singapore, I don’t see the need to, since I have such an active and adventurous lifestyle. It’s not controversial for a Muslim lady not to be wearing the tudung in Singapore, and much less so if you are in the US.
I have never asked or discussed with anyone about wearing even though the thought and the niat to wear the tudung has crept into my mind at a few times in my life though I can’t exactly recall when. I have occasionally tried out tudungs in front of the mirrors. And even at very fewer times, wear the tudung in the house. I kept telling myself, if I decide to wear, it will be for good. And it is not something for me to call it off and give it up later. I want to be a tudung-wearer not tudung-weary. But I was fearful of being hejab. One of the major reasons is, I’m ashamed of myself. Though I am not deviant, and I would think that I am morally a good person, I am not a good Muslim. I am a lazy and ignorant one. I neglected my prayers. I didn’t complete my Quran. I’m too lazy and too involved in worldly affairs to further my knowledge in Islam. If I wear the tudung, and I am still lazy and ignorant, what’s the point? I can’t be Muslim on the outside, but be so unknowledgeable and less practicing on the inside. This stopped me from covering up.
It was during one of my online chats with a friend, R that I summoned the courage to ask the same questions that a Muslimah shouldn’t for the answers are just obvious. What makes you? And what is the turning point for you? But isn’t it too sudden? R quoted in her blog, she hejabed a day after her husband’s marriage proposal eventhough the day before she was wearing an ill-fitting jeans and a see-through blouse. Whatever she told me at that time made much sense to me. “I can’t wait to be a better Muslim to be hejab-ed. Perhaps being hejab will make me a better Muslim.” Even then these words of wisdom haven’t moved me.
At that point in time, I was also adamant in teaching my son good Islamic values especially living in a foreign western land, and with little contact of Islam and good Muslims, I felt that it was even more dire on me to teach him Islam. However, I can’t be teaching my son good Islamic values without practicing them properly.
In later chats and emails, R asked, “what if your son goes to madrasah and finds the ustazah covered up, learned from the Quran about Muslim women being hejab, only to return home to find his mummy, not hejab? Wouldn’t he be confused? What do you say to him then?”
That hit me. I want my son to learn good Islamic values but I am not practising it. What do I say if my son really asked me, “Mummy, why aren’t you wearing the hejab like the Quran says?” Being a good role model, is what parenting is all about isn't it?
For the sake of Allah, and for the sake of producing a good Muslim lineage, I have embraced the hejab but my journey is only the beginning. I am still no less lazy and no less ignorant. But I am trying my very best, and I know my very best is still not good enough, to Him and to me. I have no one else to blame except myself.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
The life of Uncle
My uncle committed suicide last year. He jumped from a flat.
"He must have been very depressed." Mom said. Her voice was calm over the phone but I could detect her flinching nerves.
I was quiet, unsure of what to say. Then I asked, "How did everyone take it?"
"Your Ah Por was crying. Aunty Nanz also cried..." Mom's voice started to crack.
She told me that her sister will contact her once the body can be brought home. I just told her to keep me in the loop, and if she needed me to send her to any place, just let me know. In the meantime, I told her to take care of herself. I was not sure whether I should ask her to pray for him, but I guess it's ok to wish for something good for someone who had passed on eventhough you are not sure whether your prayers to the deceased will do any good, in this case.
Life really took a turn for uncle, the youngest and only son of four siblings. The son who would have carried his family's surname, and who would be the most important person to attend to his parents' funeral. But this was not to be.
When I was young, I knew him to be a well-established person, at least from my mom's description of him. Groomed and endowed in his pockets and wallets, he was generous with his ang pows whenever we met during that once a year Chinese new year. Eventhough he drove a taxi, he was also helping another of his relative in the money-lending industry. They are legal money lenders, not loan sharks. He was also into doing business, one of which was opening a store selling video games in the heartlands. Thus, driving a cab was just a hobby. He enjoyed the 'high life' too - life in karaoke lounges.
He fell in love with a woman, much to some disapprovement of family members. But it just goes to show he has a big heart. The woman was mute. They were blessed with two daughters.
Fast forward many years later, in which we did not really keep in touch with the going-ons in his lives, we heard news that he had taken a second wife. But the marriage and everything associated with it was hazy.
The woman was Malay. They met at a karaoke lounge where she was working. They married in Thailand (or some other remote places). He had converted to Islam. He was called Atan by his Malay in-laws but it was probably an extension of his Chinese surname - Tan. Again, many disapproved of this marriage believing that the woman was only after his wealth, and nothing else. Her - being Malay was not an issue for the family, perhaps because, their daughter who is my mom was given away by them when she was a baby to be adopted by a Malay/Muslim.
He did not divorce his Chinese wife, but had left her to be with his Malay wife. Again, he was blessed with two daughters with his Malay wife.
Then, things just spiralled down. Mom would get snippets of going-ons in his lives whenever we visited Ah Por for Chinese new year. Every year, something major would happen.
- Second wife wanted a divorce, but then they got back again.
- His elder daughter from his first marriage got pregnant out of wedlock. But it was a non-issue, as she got married to her boyfriend. Uncle never attended his daughter's wedding.
- His younger daughter from his first marriage got caught for drug abuse and was sent for rehab
- His first wife got depressed and stayed with Ah Por for a while. She does not have family members in Singapore. She was from Malaysia.
- He had kidney failure
- He had some bad skin ailments
- His second wife finally wanted a divorce
- He was jobless and penniless and went back to live with Ah Por
We met him during one Chinese new year - maybe last year, maybe the year before last. He was thin and frail, far from the prosperous man that I used to know and see when I was a little girl. He left after some small conversations with my mom, giving the excuse that he had to be at the dialysis centre. Mom gave him money, and I could see the shock on his face but Mom insisted. It was a reversal of role - he used to give my mom and her children money, but now it was the other way round.
That was the last time I saw him - alive.
On the second fateful evening, my husband and I went to the Singapore Casket at Lavender Street. Mom was already there. Ah Por looked devastated. Everyone else looked calm. Aunty Nanz even managed to 'grumble' about him taking his life a day before her birthday, and now she was spending her birthday on his funeral day. In fact, she was supposed to be taking a holiday to Vietnam with Ah Por and had paid for the trip. All that was left were huge regrettable sighs.
At the corner of that small room lies his coffin which we did not immediately go to. Both his wife and ex-wife and their children were there. True to what my mom had thought, he had never quite converted. His Malay ex-wife did not request for a Muslim burial. I don't think she knew what is to be done. I saw her elder daughter whom I had seen when she was a little girl. She was a pretty little girl, very cute and adorable but seeing her now, I'm sorry that we were never close. I may have been judgemental, but from the first look at her again, you would describe her as an 'anak metropolitan' - the fame tv show on Suria Malay channel that had rebellious, angst-ridden teens associated with tattoos and gangsterism. She had an almost bleached hair, nose studs and a small tattoo - the ones visible to my naked eye and she is my niece whom I never quite get to know. But then again, I may be wrong. We didn't talk to each other eventhough her mom made her 'salam' me. It was a lacklustre 'salam' without her holding my hand firmly or properly.
When my husband and I decided to take our leave, we went over to the coffin. Deep inside me, I was a bit fearful. Mom and Aunties told me that I do not have to see him if I do not want to, or am afraid to. But I wanted to, so I did.
The coffin was small, made of wood, but it had a glass top near the face. This was my first time paying my last respects to someone in a coffin. It was a strange feeling. Uncle looked really small and rested. There was a certain sombreness in the look of his face - I was not sure, I do not want to read too much into it.
The funeral was a simple affair, unlike the many Chinese funerals I had seen. Mom attended all the way until the cremation day at Mount Vernon accompanied by my sister. I did not attend the cremation. Aunties did what they needed to do there. Mom was a bundle of steel, believing in her Islamic faith put her in the right frame of mind.
If Uncle did not find the happiness and peace that he wanted when he was alive, I wish for the happiness, peace and guidance of Allah to the family he left behind especially for the niece I never really get to know.
"He must have been very depressed." Mom said. Her voice was calm over the phone but I could detect her flinching nerves.
I was quiet, unsure of what to say. Then I asked, "How did everyone take it?"
"Your Ah Por was crying. Aunty Nanz also cried..." Mom's voice started to crack.
She told me that her sister will contact her once the body can be brought home. I just told her to keep me in the loop, and if she needed me to send her to any place, just let me know. In the meantime, I told her to take care of herself. I was not sure whether I should ask her to pray for him, but I guess it's ok to wish for something good for someone who had passed on eventhough you are not sure whether your prayers to the deceased will do any good, in this case.
Life really took a turn for uncle, the youngest and only son of four siblings. The son who would have carried his family's surname, and who would be the most important person to attend to his parents' funeral. But this was not to be.
When I was young, I knew him to be a well-established person, at least from my mom's description of him. Groomed and endowed in his pockets and wallets, he was generous with his ang pows whenever we met during that once a year Chinese new year. Eventhough he drove a taxi, he was also helping another of his relative in the money-lending industry. They are legal money lenders, not loan sharks. He was also into doing business, one of which was opening a store selling video games in the heartlands. Thus, driving a cab was just a hobby. He enjoyed the 'high life' too - life in karaoke lounges.
He fell in love with a woman, much to some disapprovement of family members. But it just goes to show he has a big heart. The woman was mute. They were blessed with two daughters.
Fast forward many years later, in which we did not really keep in touch with the going-ons in his lives, we heard news that he had taken a second wife. But the marriage and everything associated with it was hazy.
The woman was Malay. They met at a karaoke lounge where she was working. They married in Thailand (or some other remote places). He had converted to Islam. He was called Atan by his Malay in-laws but it was probably an extension of his Chinese surname - Tan. Again, many disapproved of this marriage believing that the woman was only after his wealth, and nothing else. Her - being Malay was not an issue for the family, perhaps because, their daughter who is my mom was given away by them when she was a baby to be adopted by a Malay/Muslim.
He did not divorce his Chinese wife, but had left her to be with his Malay wife. Again, he was blessed with two daughters with his Malay wife.
Then, things just spiralled down. Mom would get snippets of going-ons in his lives whenever we visited Ah Por for Chinese new year. Every year, something major would happen.
- Second wife wanted a divorce, but then they got back again.
- His elder daughter from his first marriage got pregnant out of wedlock. But it was a non-issue, as she got married to her boyfriend. Uncle never attended his daughter's wedding.
- His younger daughter from his first marriage got caught for drug abuse and was sent for rehab
- His first wife got depressed and stayed with Ah Por for a while. She does not have family members in Singapore. She was from Malaysia.
- He had kidney failure
- He had some bad skin ailments
- His second wife finally wanted a divorce
- He was jobless and penniless and went back to live with Ah Por
We met him during one Chinese new year - maybe last year, maybe the year before last. He was thin and frail, far from the prosperous man that I used to know and see when I was a little girl. He left after some small conversations with my mom, giving the excuse that he had to be at the dialysis centre. Mom gave him money, and I could see the shock on his face but Mom insisted. It was a reversal of role - he used to give my mom and her children money, but now it was the other way round.
That was the last time I saw him - alive.
On the second fateful evening, my husband and I went to the Singapore Casket at Lavender Street. Mom was already there. Ah Por looked devastated. Everyone else looked calm. Aunty Nanz even managed to 'grumble' about him taking his life a day before her birthday, and now she was spending her birthday on his funeral day. In fact, she was supposed to be taking a holiday to Vietnam with Ah Por and had paid for the trip. All that was left were huge regrettable sighs.
At the corner of that small room lies his coffin which we did not immediately go to. Both his wife and ex-wife and their children were there. True to what my mom had thought, he had never quite converted. His Malay ex-wife did not request for a Muslim burial. I don't think she knew what is to be done. I saw her elder daughter whom I had seen when she was a little girl. She was a pretty little girl, very cute and adorable but seeing her now, I'm sorry that we were never close. I may have been judgemental, but from the first look at her again, you would describe her as an 'anak metropolitan' - the fame tv show on Suria Malay channel that had rebellious, angst-ridden teens associated with tattoos and gangsterism. She had an almost bleached hair, nose studs and a small tattoo - the ones visible to my naked eye and she is my niece whom I never quite get to know. But then again, I may be wrong. We didn't talk to each other eventhough her mom made her 'salam' me. It was a lacklustre 'salam' without her holding my hand firmly or properly.
When my husband and I decided to take our leave, we went over to the coffin. Deep inside me, I was a bit fearful. Mom and Aunties told me that I do not have to see him if I do not want to, or am afraid to. But I wanted to, so I did.
The coffin was small, made of wood, but it had a glass top near the face. This was my first time paying my last respects to someone in a coffin. It was a strange feeling. Uncle looked really small and rested. There was a certain sombreness in the look of his face - I was not sure, I do not want to read too much into it.
The funeral was a simple affair, unlike the many Chinese funerals I had seen. Mom attended all the way until the cremation day at Mount Vernon accompanied by my sister. I did not attend the cremation. Aunties did what they needed to do there. Mom was a bundle of steel, believing in her Islamic faith put her in the right frame of mind.
If Uncle did not find the happiness and peace that he wanted when he was alive, I wish for the happiness, peace and guidance of Allah to the family he left behind especially for the niece I never really get to know.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
All that I want, is just another...
What shall I blog about? Reflections and resolutions ...nah. It was an uneventful start to the new year. No reflections, no resolutions... just a fancy do. I rebonded my hair for the first time. I would still like a nice crown under my hejab without the unruly kinks, and yes, I'm pretty delighted with the outcome. It wasn't about vanity, it was about not having a bad hair day. Yes, I could have a bad hair day eventhough my hair is covered.
That aside, I didn't ponder about 2007, but I guess now that I am writing this, I am beginning to think about the shape my life has taken this year. I went back to becoming FTWM in March but in an industry totally different from what I used to be in. It was more sane, I guess, clocking in sane number of hours, and leaving on the dot or even lesser than the exact dot. Some people may think that I have caved into the rut of the admin lady - the one who does not care about the grand vision of the company, who just need to do her part and off she goes home to her loving husband and child.
Hey, but I do have a grand vision, a vision of a good life for me - that without a doubt. If you believe in Maslow's Hierarchy of Human Needs, the higher we move up the ladder, the more self-actualization we want. And I believe, I'm selfish enough to make it all about ME now. Yes, ME! Like the song goes, "All that I want, is just another..." (FILL UP YOUR OWN WORD).
I have had some great fulfilments in my career in the last decade, and though there's more higher peaks to scale in that area, I'm happy to leave it for the others. But if I do decide to climb that same peak again, it has to be different. It has to be about a cause, a personal cause. A cause that will lead me to the right path and direction, not necessarily the highest peak.
That's fulfilment.
That aside, I didn't ponder about 2007, but I guess now that I am writing this, I am beginning to think about the shape my life has taken this year. I went back to becoming FTWM in March but in an industry totally different from what I used to be in. It was more sane, I guess, clocking in sane number of hours, and leaving on the dot or even lesser than the exact dot. Some people may think that I have caved into the rut of the admin lady - the one who does not care about the grand vision of the company, who just need to do her part and off she goes home to her loving husband and child.
Hey, but I do have a grand vision, a vision of a good life for me - that without a doubt. If you believe in Maslow's Hierarchy of Human Needs, the higher we move up the ladder, the more self-actualization we want. And I believe, I'm selfish enough to make it all about ME now. Yes, ME! Like the song goes, "All that I want, is just another..." (FILL UP YOUR OWN WORD).
I have had some great fulfilments in my career in the last decade, and though there's more higher peaks to scale in that area, I'm happy to leave it for the others. But if I do decide to climb that same peak again, it has to be different. It has to be about a cause, a personal cause. A cause that will lead me to the right path and direction, not necessarily the highest peak.
That's fulfilment.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Between Standard and Foundation
Just recently, the ministry of education came up with newer plans for children taking the normal course in secondary schools. It looked like a better plan, because for once, the needs of these children are really looked into. Among them is the creation of a head of department for normal technical education in secondary schools. This only means that there would be someone to look into the affairs, needs and matters of normal tech's curriculum and students. There would also be refinement in the Sec 4 and Sec 5 curriculum so that the children can go direct into Higher Nitec at ITE or the polytechnics respectively. There are other initiatives, like getting ITE lecturers to be seconded to secondary schools so that they are better able to share their expertise and inspire the students. There will also be the creation of new posts of educational associates to be attached to schools as well.
The reason that these being good news to me, is that, I know, many of our Malay children are in this stream. And if it's being refined to give them more opportunities, they should grab this opportunity and not let it slip by.
One other thing that I found out is that there are no more EM3 and the merge EM1/EM2 banding in primary schools anymore. There are only two types of subject bandings, and they are foundation subjects and standard subjects. This only means that children can choose to take up all standard subjects or one or two foundation subjects depending on their ability and affinity in those subjects - English, maths, science and mother tongue. This is great as instead of labelling the child, we label the subjects, and if a child is not able to take up a standard subject, then they should consider a foundation subject. And children will be mixed in a class.
However, a word of caution from some educators:
This is especially the case for foundation maths. Many educators believe that it is still necessary for the child to take standard maths instead of foundation maths, as the requirement for entry into most faculties in post-secondary education, except ITE, requires standard maths. If you want to take up "O" levels maths, you have to learn standard maths, not foundation. In that sense, these educators felt that if a child already took foundation maths in primary school, it will only limit his/her choices later on. And as we all know, some children are late bloomers, and we also do not want to doom the child before he can bloom.
It is just an advise for parents to plan and think ahead - not only of their child's abilities, but their child's interests and the possible choices ahead. Unless, a parents' feel that their child can only do an ITE track, then they should nurture the child to realise a higher nitec track in ITE, and later diploma in poly. If, however, they feel that their child is still able to perform better than expected, they should consider giving as much assistance in standard mathematics at the primary level so that their children can have many more options and choices to choose from for his education later in the future.
The reason that these being good news to me, is that, I know, many of our Malay children are in this stream. And if it's being refined to give them more opportunities, they should grab this opportunity and not let it slip by.
One other thing that I found out is that there are no more EM3 and the merge EM1/EM2 banding in primary schools anymore. There are only two types of subject bandings, and they are foundation subjects and standard subjects. This only means that children can choose to take up all standard subjects or one or two foundation subjects depending on their ability and affinity in those subjects - English, maths, science and mother tongue. This is great as instead of labelling the child, we label the subjects, and if a child is not able to take up a standard subject, then they should consider a foundation subject. And children will be mixed in a class.
However, a word of caution from some educators:
This is especially the case for foundation maths. Many educators believe that it is still necessary for the child to take standard maths instead of foundation maths, as the requirement for entry into most faculties in post-secondary education, except ITE, requires standard maths. If you want to take up "O" levels maths, you have to learn standard maths, not foundation. In that sense, these educators felt that if a child already took foundation maths in primary school, it will only limit his/her choices later on. And as we all know, some children are late bloomers, and we also do not want to doom the child before he can bloom.
It is just an advise for parents to plan and think ahead - not only of their child's abilities, but their child's interests and the possible choices ahead. Unless, a parents' feel that their child can only do an ITE track, then they should nurture the child to realise a higher nitec track in ITE, and later diploma in poly. If, however, they feel that their child is still able to perform better than expected, they should consider giving as much assistance in standard mathematics at the primary level so that their children can have many more options and choices to choose from for his education later in the future.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
To give or not to give
Do you think we, Singaporeans, have too many help at hand? Or maybe too many organisations or individuals canvassing from funds all year round all the time?
I am just wondering, would you give your loose change to the countless number of times that you would be approached at the hawker centres, or the markets by some elderly religious man or woman, or some young innocent kids? If you give, do you also questioned their 'authenticity of needs'? If you don't give, do you feel guilty for not extending your arm to the unfortunate, if truly they are unfortunate.
How would you respond, if it is not once, but many times to these modern-day begging when the "askers" looked quite polished in terms of clothings. Of course, there are others, and especially so during holy months like Ramadan, that made me feel we have a plethora of "askers" this time around looking rather dishevelled on the streets of Geylang, Bussorah and entrances of mosques all over Singapore. The reason being is that we tend to be more giving during Ramadan as compared to at other times, and this could be the reason for abuse by some people in need of that extra cash.
I bumped into two young kids - playful, as they were going down on an up escalator at the Joo Chiat Complex, and they shoved a 'makeshift' box, which looked more like a tupperware that has been cut a hole on the cover. They also gave a slip of photocopied paper. I looked at the paper. It was the prayer schedule for this Ramadan period which I already have and could download freely from the internet. So I declined the paper but I slotted a two dollar note into that little hole made on the cover of their tupperware, and then I asked the young girl, "where are you from?". This question was more of me wanting to know which organisation that the kid came from, and her innocent respond was "Yishun Avenue 5". I wondered whether there was any welfare organisation at Yishun Avenue 5. Hmmm...would any parents do this to their kids? I mean, as much as you are in dire straits, would you get your kids to beg with the guise of donation boxes. I wondered.
And I wondered again, about a certain organisation organising a "ready-for-school-fund". Don't we have enough? Like the Kindergarten Financial Assistance Scheme, Educational Trust Fund, Prophet Muhammad Trust Fund, School Pocket Money Fund, and every other organisations giving out free books, uniforms and school bags come every end of year. Can't we tap from these funds, or from one fund that has the same objectives? Are there checks in place or that the same applicant can received all the funds? And then in the end getting more than three free schoolbags that year. Does giving schoolbags alone helped educating the minds of the young? Yes, you can go to school with a fancy new school bag, but has the community made any progress?
And when I think about it, wouldn't it be better if this new fund is not merely for buying physical items for the families that we already have enough, but educating the Malay families about the importance of education, importance of progressive education, educating the child in 'premium' playgroups for literacy and numeracy skills so that they can possibly catch up with their peers? Out of 19 children identified for help in literacy and numeracy in kindergarten, 14 are Malay families. I wondered why? Not so much because of the large number of Malay families, well... that too, but only 19 needed help. That's not too bad a figure, isn't it? Really? 19 only...?
I've said to a friend before. We are trying to chase the Singapore dream for us Malays, who were supposedly indigenous to this land. Thirty years on from merdeka, we are still working towards getting our kids into post-secondary education and this only mean polytechnic and junior college education. And by the time we reached our target in getting our kids into post-secondary education, we would be burdened by the fact that the others have left us again far behind, this time the others would have had double degrees and phDs, and we just got our diplomas and A-levels certificates. Are we to jump for joy?
It does not take thirty years to see this happening. It has happened. Just recently, it looked like the polytechnic holders of the other communities are hungry for a university degree. They are moving on, shoving their way forward that the government realised the need to built a fourth university to cater to this group. But do our children fall into this group? Out of a 1000 applicants, how many can we safely say are our Malay children who are degree hungry? We are always happy and would spread it in the Malay news, if one of our Malay kids get it. Why one? Why can't it be 150 Malay children or even more. Then, that will be greater news, isnt it? Therefore, I ask, are our outreach approach and goals to educate the community outdated? I wondered again.
I am just wondering, would you give your loose change to the countless number of times that you would be approached at the hawker centres, or the markets by some elderly religious man or woman, or some young innocent kids? If you give, do you also questioned their 'authenticity of needs'? If you don't give, do you feel guilty for not extending your arm to the unfortunate, if truly they are unfortunate.
How would you respond, if it is not once, but many times to these modern-day begging when the "askers" looked quite polished in terms of clothings. Of course, there are others, and especially so during holy months like Ramadan, that made me feel we have a plethora of "askers" this time around looking rather dishevelled on the streets of Geylang, Bussorah and entrances of mosques all over Singapore. The reason being is that we tend to be more giving during Ramadan as compared to at other times, and this could be the reason for abuse by some people in need of that extra cash.
I bumped into two young kids - playful, as they were going down on an up escalator at the Joo Chiat Complex, and they shoved a 'makeshift' box, which looked more like a tupperware that has been cut a hole on the cover. They also gave a slip of photocopied paper. I looked at the paper. It was the prayer schedule for this Ramadan period which I already have and could download freely from the internet. So I declined the paper but I slotted a two dollar note into that little hole made on the cover of their tupperware, and then I asked the young girl, "where are you from?". This question was more of me wanting to know which organisation that the kid came from, and her innocent respond was "Yishun Avenue 5". I wondered whether there was any welfare organisation at Yishun Avenue 5. Hmmm...would any parents do this to their kids? I mean, as much as you are in dire straits, would you get your kids to beg with the guise of donation boxes. I wondered.
And I wondered again, about a certain organisation organising a "ready-for-school-fund". Don't we have enough? Like the Kindergarten Financial Assistance Scheme, Educational Trust Fund, Prophet Muhammad Trust Fund, School Pocket Money Fund, and every other organisations giving out free books, uniforms and school bags come every end of year. Can't we tap from these funds, or from one fund that has the same objectives? Are there checks in place or that the same applicant can received all the funds? And then in the end getting more than three free schoolbags that year. Does giving schoolbags alone helped educating the minds of the young? Yes, you can go to school with a fancy new school bag, but has the community made any progress?
And when I think about it, wouldn't it be better if this new fund is not merely for buying physical items for the families that we already have enough, but educating the Malay families about the importance of education, importance of progressive education, educating the child in 'premium' playgroups for literacy and numeracy skills so that they can possibly catch up with their peers? Out of 19 children identified for help in literacy and numeracy in kindergarten, 14 are Malay families. I wondered why? Not so much because of the large number of Malay families, well... that too, but only 19 needed help. That's not too bad a figure, isn't it? Really? 19 only...?
I've said to a friend before. We are trying to chase the Singapore dream for us Malays, who were supposedly indigenous to this land. Thirty years on from merdeka, we are still working towards getting our kids into post-secondary education and this only mean polytechnic and junior college education. And by the time we reached our target in getting our kids into post-secondary education, we would be burdened by the fact that the others have left us again far behind, this time the others would have had double degrees and phDs, and we just got our diplomas and A-levels certificates. Are we to jump for joy?
It does not take thirty years to see this happening. It has happened. Just recently, it looked like the polytechnic holders of the other communities are hungry for a university degree. They are moving on, shoving their way forward that the government realised the need to built a fourth university to cater to this group. But do our children fall into this group? Out of a 1000 applicants, how many can we safely say are our Malay children who are degree hungry? We are always happy and would spread it in the Malay news, if one of our Malay kids get it. Why one? Why can't it be 150 Malay children or even more. Then, that will be greater news, isnt it? Therefore, I ask, are our outreach approach and goals to educate the community outdated? I wondered again.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
The life of Apul
Apul was eating the food that his mom fed him on the roadside. It looked like a bowl of rice with soup that she had gotten from the street vendor. They sat with their bum squarely on the pavement - she fed him, he ate. Apul's face looked like he needed a good scrub. And maybe a change of clothing. His mother too. Apul looked active, like any young child would be. When we waved and called out to him to come to us, he seemed shy. His mother kept encouraging him persistently to go to us. Such agility, such innocence, as he toddled his way through. Apul came to us, with 'reserved daringness'. My mom gave him a pack of boiled peanuts that she bought, and then I offered him 1000 Rupiah. He took the boiled peanuts, the 1000 Rupiah and another 1000 Rupiah from my mom. He waddled away like any happy child who was just given candy. His mother beamed from the pavement and hollered a thank you. When Apul came to her, she said to him in her endearing tone, "Have you said thank you? Have you said thank you, Apul?"
We left them in their own world, but as I caught glimpses of that little world of theirs on the pavement, how priviledged a life I felt I had, and how priviledged my son is as compared to Apul. On the other hand, there was that carefree spirit, and a sense of happiness that both mother and child share, without any worries or cares of the world around them. I realised that the mom finally paid the street vendor for that bowl of rice from the money that we gave Apul. Perhaps, she had an agreement with the street vendor. If got money, pay. If not, no charge for this bowl of rice. This is the life that Apul is growing up in, a life on the street.
It looks like street kids and street youth are a common feature in the streets of Bandung. The kids sell stuffs - stuffs that you probably don't even need or want, or maybe hastely dust the windows of your vehicle as it stopped by the red traffic light. Many drivers keep loose change, so if you feel like being generous, you give. On the other hand, the teens strummed their guitar at every car that stopped at the traffic light, and serenaded a pop song, hoping for some loose change. Red traffic light is an opportunity to get into business. However, how much loose change do you have if you happen to live here, and get this every day and at almost every traffic stop. I saw a man in a vehicle who parted with a stick of cigarette for one of the strumming cum serenading teen. Unlike those who looked extremely poor and who purely solicit for money, there were many others, that being on the streets is perhaps like a job (?), a culture (?), a lifestyle (?), or maybe a part of the fabric of their life (?). I'm not certain.
A family friend recounted a story whereby a couple who sympathised with a street kid decided to adopt him. They gave him a home, clean and nice clothes to wear, good food to eat, schooled him but alas, the boy ran away from home and decided to remain on the street, where perhaps he was happier, stress-free, rule-free, and be part of a group or culture or lifestyle that he knew best, and most comfortable with.
Unlike those stuck in the thick of poverty, and had no choice but to beg, there were others, I believed, and it seemed to me from my naked eye, that do this for a living. But seeing many young children on the streets doing it for a living, really made me wonder about what the government is doing to help their countrymen, women and children even if I sensed that the children seemed at ease with their 'lifestyle'. Or perhaps they have been 'acculturated' or 'socialised' in this life that they were born into. Perhaps this is the only life they know, so they never need to ask for more. And thus, conveniencing their leaders.
And as I leave this place with memories of the good and the heart-wrenching, I hope Apul will meet a fate better that his peers and some of his countrymen, women and children but whatever path his destiny may take him, I pray and wish that he is happy and healthy and may the All-Knowing bestow more rezeki on him and his mother.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Of meet and greet...
The morning was still blanketed in bluish dark skies as we made our way out to school and work. As he waited fidgetyly for his school bus, I waited with him. There he was, the other boy, the shy neighbour from the opposite apartment, in the same school uniform waiting for the same school bus. He is a foreigner, judging from his accent. Initially I thought he was Filipino because of his Catholic-inspired name, but now, I think he may be Indonesian. His companion who could possibly be his maid, aunty, sister or mom, was not friendly. I did talk to her on the very first day of Afzal's taking the bus there, to ask about the school bus. But after that first day, it was my maid who would send Afzal every morning so I haven't seen them.
Yesterday and today, I was there, waiting together with them but she did not turn her head to me or say good morning or even a simple hi or hello. If only she had looked my way, I would gladly holler a good morning but she didn't. So I didn't greet her either. She left hurriedly after the boy went up the bus without even a wave, or a smile, or a greet...oh well.
Slowly, I walked to the bus stop. It was barely 200 metres away, and as I strolled to the main street, the bus that I was to take had passed the bus stop. It was only 7 am anyway. The neighbourhood had a very kampung-like atmosphere especially when I see a white cock with a very red comb having its morning pecks among the grasses but the traffic on the main street was proof of bustling activity. Despite the fact that it was not a major road, it had the busy-ness of the morning rush hour. Everyone is either to work or school, and for the cock - to scratch a worm or two for its breakfast.
Fifteen minutes later, the next bus came - rather late, I thought for a morning rush hour schedule. My bus card beeped as I placed it near the reader, and more beeps came after me. Ten minutes later, I alighted near the mrt station, and as I passed the wet market, I bought two carrots and a 'stalk' of broccoli. The genial apek said in clear structured tones, "it's one dollar and ninety cents." I passed the apek a two dollar note, and he smiled, thanking me while taking a change of ten cents to return to me. It was a pleasant marketing experience. All of these vegetables in a red plastic bag, I tucked them in my Atienne Aigner beaten bag and what a bulge it made, and off to the train station I went.
Vegetables in my designer bag and a free blue kfc pouch in one hand that contained my solat items, I was on my way to work. I was lucky to get a seat only after two stations away, but when a little baby arrived on her mummy's chest looking at me adorably, I had to get up and offered her mummy the seat. She was so adorably cute, and she wanted to hold my finger, but at the same time wary of me. They only sat for a couple of stations before the mum got up to leave. But before that, little baby girl waved good bye and blew french kisses at me. And for someone who is only one year old, her social skill is endearing and even her fine motor skill is rather superb as she was tossing and turning the morning newspaper.
At about 8.11 am, I reached my destination. And I smsed hubby to let him know I was already at the station. Hubby was working the night shift which is very near the mrt, so he picked me up at the station and sent me to my workplace before he drove home. Isn't he a sweetheart for that?
As I was passing the bus interchange's canteen, it was bustling with makciks selling breakfast of nasi lemak, mee goreng and epok-epok. So I bought some for me, but not for hubby today as he would have home-made breakfast later at home.
Before I alighted from the car, I put the carrot and broccoli at the backseat so hubby can bring it home for the maid to put it in the soup that I made last night. My vegetables would have gone cross-country before it landed into the pot.
And as I staggered to the office, I met this fatherly professor, whom we occasionally bumped into each other along the corridor and would greet each other with our hi's and goodbyes, and little small talks. We had a small talk yesterday and he continued it to this morning on the subject of where do you live, and how do you come to work. So he had to ask this morning, "did your husband send you this morning?"
"Oh yes..."
"Ah...you are good!" With a bit of a cheeky tone, "or maybe he is good..."
I smiled while churning out a naughty cheeky reply. "Oh well, I have him wrap around my fingers..." His wrinkled eyes with silver-coloured brow lighted up, he smiled and waved me off.
Except for the unfriendly neighbour, I had a good morning, with some friendly banter with strangers and the occasional acquantainces. I mean, how can anyone go wrong with a good morning, or a hello, a sleepy smile or blowing french kisses or husbandly pecks. It takes as simple as these to make anyone's day, right?
Yesterday and today, I was there, waiting together with them but she did not turn her head to me or say good morning or even a simple hi or hello. If only she had looked my way, I would gladly holler a good morning but she didn't. So I didn't greet her either. She left hurriedly after the boy went up the bus without even a wave, or a smile, or a greet...oh well.
Slowly, I walked to the bus stop. It was barely 200 metres away, and as I strolled to the main street, the bus that I was to take had passed the bus stop. It was only 7 am anyway. The neighbourhood had a very kampung-like atmosphere especially when I see a white cock with a very red comb having its morning pecks among the grasses but the traffic on the main street was proof of bustling activity. Despite the fact that it was not a major road, it had the busy-ness of the morning rush hour. Everyone is either to work or school, and for the cock - to scratch a worm or two for its breakfast.
Fifteen minutes later, the next bus came - rather late, I thought for a morning rush hour schedule. My bus card beeped as I placed it near the reader, and more beeps came after me. Ten minutes later, I alighted near the mrt station, and as I passed the wet market, I bought two carrots and a 'stalk' of broccoli. The genial apek said in clear structured tones, "it's one dollar and ninety cents." I passed the apek a two dollar note, and he smiled, thanking me while taking a change of ten cents to return to me. It was a pleasant marketing experience. All of these vegetables in a red plastic bag, I tucked them in my Atienne Aigner beaten bag and what a bulge it made, and off to the train station I went.
Vegetables in my designer bag and a free blue kfc pouch in one hand that contained my solat items, I was on my way to work. I was lucky to get a seat only after two stations away, but when a little baby arrived on her mummy's chest looking at me adorably, I had to get up and offered her mummy the seat. She was so adorably cute, and she wanted to hold my finger, but at the same time wary of me. They only sat for a couple of stations before the mum got up to leave. But before that, little baby girl waved good bye and blew french kisses at me. And for someone who is only one year old, her social skill is endearing and even her fine motor skill is rather superb as she was tossing and turning the morning newspaper.
At about 8.11 am, I reached my destination. And I smsed hubby to let him know I was already at the station. Hubby was working the night shift which is very near the mrt, so he picked me up at the station and sent me to my workplace before he drove home. Isn't he a sweetheart for that?
As I was passing the bus interchange's canteen, it was bustling with makciks selling breakfast of nasi lemak, mee goreng and epok-epok. So I bought some for me, but not for hubby today as he would have home-made breakfast later at home.
Before I alighted from the car, I put the carrot and broccoli at the backseat so hubby can bring it home for the maid to put it in the soup that I made last night. My vegetables would have gone cross-country before it landed into the pot.
And as I staggered to the office, I met this fatherly professor, whom we occasionally bumped into each other along the corridor and would greet each other with our hi's and goodbyes, and little small talks. We had a small talk yesterday and he continued it to this morning on the subject of where do you live, and how do you come to work. So he had to ask this morning, "did your husband send you this morning?"
"Oh yes..."
"Ah...you are good!" With a bit of a cheeky tone, "or maybe he is good..."
I smiled while churning out a naughty cheeky reply. "Oh well, I have him wrap around my fingers..." His wrinkled eyes with silver-coloured brow lighted up, he smiled and waved me off.
Except for the unfriendly neighbour, I had a good morning, with some friendly banter with strangers and the occasional acquantainces. I mean, how can anyone go wrong with a good morning, or a hello, a sleepy smile or blowing french kisses or husbandly pecks. It takes as simple as these to make anyone's day, right?
Monday, July 30, 2007
For being pandai dan memandai-mandai...
At some point in our lives, we are clever and also trying to be clever, and so me thinks.
My comments on Anugerah finalists is the case of me of trying to be clever, since I was the self-declared uninvited unofficial judge. But perhaps I'm already clever enough to be judge, since I was a judge before in Juara, on-air no less, as well as countless number of auditions before the actual Anugerahs.
Back to my real life, 'oleh kerana pandai dan memandai-mandai', I am now feeling swarmed with work.
When I was in broadcasting, the workload is crazy - long hours, extreme fatigue, super busy and I will be too occupied with work to even bother about the world of blogging. Now, I'm in administrative work, so well I have time, lots, that I could well - blog.
But I need to keep my cerebral stretched, and so the 'pandai and memandai-mandai' me actually volunteered for extra work and requested for more work. And now because of that, I have three extra workload at work, and that I have a few others outside of work.
Well, I just wondered what did I get myself into. I should relish and cherish this 'time' I have on my hand. But no, I got myself busy ...
Hope this is all worth it...
My comments on Anugerah finalists is the case of me of trying to be clever, since I was the self-declared uninvited unofficial judge. But perhaps I'm already clever enough to be judge, since I was a judge before in Juara, on-air no less, as well as countless number of auditions before the actual Anugerahs.
Back to my real life, 'oleh kerana pandai dan memandai-mandai', I am now feeling swarmed with work.
When I was in broadcasting, the workload is crazy - long hours, extreme fatigue, super busy and I will be too occupied with work to even bother about the world of blogging. Now, I'm in administrative work, so well I have time, lots, that I could well - blog.
But I need to keep my cerebral stretched, and so the 'pandai and memandai-mandai' me actually volunteered for extra work and requested for more work. And now because of that, I have three extra workload at work, and that I have a few others outside of work.
Well, I just wondered what did I get myself into. I should relish and cherish this 'time' I have on my hand. But no, I got myself busy ...
Hope this is all worth it...
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